


We Looked Like Giants

by eigengrau



Category: Prometheus (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Honestly though this was supposed to be PWP but the feels attacked halfway through, Kink Meme, M/M, Porn with a side of feels, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eigengrau/pseuds/eigengrau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Millburn, at six-foot-three-inches, is used to feeling like a giant. He's used to towering over other people, of looking down all the time, of grinning sheepishly when people crane their necks to squint up at him.</p><p>How's the weather up there? they ask, as if they're the first ones to think of it. </p><p>Not bad, he says, usually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Looked Like Giants

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a prompt at the Prometheus kink meme, that can be found HERE (http://prometheuskink.livejournal.com/851.html?thread=112979#t112979) which was in turn inspired by this pic (http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbe98mbQen1r50xflo1_500.jpg) from the screen test segment of the Blu-Ray.

Millburn, at six-foot-three-inches, is used to feeling like a giant. He's used to towering over other people, of looking down all the time, of grinning sheepishly when people crane their necks to squint up at him.  
  
 _How's the weather up there?_  they ask, as if they're the first ones to think of it.   
  
 _Not bad_ , he says, usually.  
  
When he was younger it was worse. He was all legs and arms then, skinny and bespectacled and one head taller than all the others in his class. Funny looks, he'd get. But he changed, as most boys do when they ease their painful way out of puberty, filling out and growing in. His shoulders rounded from hours spent staring at tiny wriggling organisms through the lenses of microscopes, hunched over slides and scribbled notes. He morphed from a gangly teenager into something else entirely- and though his personality led many to think of him as an overgrown boy, far too excitable and friendly for his own good, his body was undeniably adult, undeniable male. A bit squishy, perhaps, but in all the right places. 

Fifield has not grown out of adolescence in the same way that Millburn has. And even though Millburn is used to feeling like a giant, he isn't used to men who have the strange ability to make him feel so small. Fifield, though his line of sight only reaches Millburn's nose, makes him feel different. Those dark eyes hit him right in the lungs. He thinks that, maybe, Fifield sees him like a star- something that is large, unfathomably so, but that, from a certain point in space, looks like nothing more than a pinprick of light.   
  
It's something to think about when the mission starts and Fifield's hostility only makes Millburn want him more. But when they narrowly avoid death, when they get back to the ship against all odds and when everything starts to go to shit, it's more than an idle thought.  
  
There is no grace in the way Fifield strips off his pants, but there’s no shame either. No shyness. His long fingers work the buttons of his jeans and he shoves the denim down to his thighs. Millburn wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him close.  
  
This is probably a terrible idea, but they've spent the night nearly freezing to death in dark tunnels, and the day watching Holloway transform and die and Shaw starting to lose her mind. There's no time for slowness, for patience. When Fifield had crowded him against the wall in their bunk and pressed their lips together, hard and fast and desperate, Millburn had kissed him right back.  
  
Fifield doesn’t take off Millburn's shirt- just slides his palms up underneath, hands pressing against the flesh of his belly as he licks his way into the biologist's mouth. His lips are chapped and his teeth uneven, but he tastes clean and warm and honest. His beard scratches rough against Millburn's skin and he likes it, God help him, and winds his fingers into Fifield's orange hair.  
  
He looked thin when he was dressed, but naked he’s positively skinny. Millburn’s got so much more flesh than he does. Self-consciousness twitches in the back of his mind as the sharp angles of his ribs and collarbone bite into his chest, his stomach. It hurts, but the way he touches him, gently, with just the tips of his fingers makes up for all the ways his edges cut. Millburn curls a hand around his hip, fingers notching into dips and hollows in Fifield's sallow skin.  
  
He bites a bruising kiss into Millburn's throat and he holds back a sigh, breathing hard through his nose. 

There are scars everywhere on Fifield, souvenirs of misadventure. His hands, his chest, his arms and legs and face. Pale raised lines and blotches paint across his skin, and Millburn can feel them everywhere he touches. Some run under the lines of ink that cover him, others hiding in the crevices and angles of his body. There's one that Millburn finds in the hidden hollows between his ribs, over the hard curve of bone, and others that criss-cross the insides of his thighs. Millburn can feel them when he grabs Fifield, lifting him up and pushing him so that he's supported half by the wall, half by Millburn's grip on the sinewy legs that wrap around his hips. The raised scars brush against his bare skin and he shivers.  
  
 _Where did those come from?_  he asks, and Fifield kisses him hard and doesn't answer, just digging his nails into the soft flesh of Millburn's back.  
  
 _C'mon, Biology,_  he mutters, clinging to the larger man.  _C'mon._  
  
They're only up against the wall for so long before Millburn's legs start to shake, from both the strain of carrying another person's weight and from the way that Fifield's body feels around his cock. He wonders, as they sink to the floor, if Fifield is so tight because he doesn't have much experience in the area or because the two year trip gave him a rest. He isn't sure which thought turns him on more. On the one hand, he can't imagine anyone not wanting to fuck Fifield, in all his beautiful, crazy, sharp self. On the other hand the thought of him riding another man- the way he is now, strong lean thighs straining as he lifts himself up and plunges down on Millburn's cock with a choked exhale- makes Millburn terribly jealous. He reaches out to grab Fifield, wrapping one big hand around the geologist's slender waist. His fingers can stroke Fifield's spine at the same time that his palm rests on his flat stomach.  
  
A jolt runs through Fifield, and he buries his face in the curve of Millburn's neck.  _Fuck,_  he slurs, and Millburn can feel Fifield's cock, trapped between them, twitching as he comes hot and liquid on Millburn's belly. His hips keep jerking through the aftershocks and Millburn comes too, slower, quieter, inside the man collapsed in a heap on top of his chest. 

He pulls out, softening, and wraps his arms around Fifield. The other man grumbles half-heartedly but makes no attempt to move. For half a second, with Fifield held like this in his embrace, he feels a bit like a giant again. But he pushes the feeling down, under the layers of desperation and lust and fear that led them here in the first place.  
  
 _This is not safe_ , he thinks, and clings to Fifield a little tighter.  _We are going to die here._  
  
But at least, if David keeps grinning and Shaw keeps sobbing and Vickers keeps scowling, at least if the whole world continues to collapse around their ears, they will have had this moment- where for a second, he and Fifield held each other, and felt like giants.


End file.
